


In a moment like this

by meilunye



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Christmas, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Spoilers, like heavy spoilers for real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-01-24 09:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21336166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meilunye/pseuds/meilunye
Summary: { Christmas fic }Ever since he's been trapped inside that school and the killing game has started, Saihara has gotten use to pretty much everything, no matter how absurd or ridiculous. Still, Ouma always finds a way to catch him by surprise with his unpredictable ideas...
Relationships: Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi
Kudos: 35





	In a moment like this

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I write on this fandom, and I really hope the characters are IC enough.  
Also, please remember that English is NOT my native language, and this is simply a translation of my original fiction in Italian. I apologize for any mistakes.  
Enjoy!

When he heard someone ringing at his door, Saihara rolled around in his bedsheets with a deep sigh. He had no idea what time it was, and his head felt like it was going to burst from the pain. One thing was sure: it was too early – the morning announcement hadn’t even been broadcast yet.

As he had already explained more than once to his other friends, he wasn’t exactly an early bird. He liked to sleep in, cuddled up in the warm embrace of his bed. And he especially liked to do so after spending an entire night trying to comfort Himiko, destroyed by the loss of her two best friends.

He decided to ignore the intercom entirely. Whoever it was, they could surely wait a few more hours. He snuggled back under his bedsheets and turned on his right side, his head sinking in the softness of his pillow.

He was enjoying that relaxing embrace when the doorbell rang once more.

Persistent. But Saihara knew how to be even more stubborn if he wanted to. He covered his ears with the blanket, trying to tune out that annoying noise and finally go back to sleep.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._ It seemed like the intercom had gained a will of its own and was determined to wake him up every time he dared to doze off.

Saihara could associate all that insistence with only one guy: Kaito. The evening training wasn’t enough, probably now he had come up with some other shenanigans to steal precious hours of sleep from him. Like _good morning gym_, for example.

This problem was fast to solve. They were friends after all, and upon looking at his messed up face Kaito would understand immediately how tired he was, and how impossible it was for him to do anything besides _nap_.

He got up, his head as heavy as a rock, and headed towards the door right in the moment the intercom was ringing for the sixth time. « What’s wrong, Momota-kun? », he murmured, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas.

« Oh, what a nice sight! », chirped an unexpected voice that made the blood freeze in his veins instantly. « A Saihara-chan who just woke up! ».

Saihara jolted. Instead of the always reassuring smile of Kaito, in front of him was Ouma’s sly grin. Seeing him at his door was the weirdest thing he could ever imagine to witness in a place like that school, and that’s saying something.

He quickly gazed at the mirror behind his back to check if he was at least fit to be seen in public. He was all enveloped in thick pajamas made of flannel, barefoot and his hair pointed in all directions. Not to mention the beaten up expression printed on his face. He looked like someone who had been in a fist fight, and definitely not as the winner.

He blushed, ashamed he’d let someone – especially someone as gossipy as Ouma – see him in that pitiful state. He cleared his throat while quickly brushing his hair with his fingers.

« What do you want, Ouma-kun? », he asked, sounding way ruder than he had originally planned to. The tiredness was starting to play tricks on him.

Ouma didn’t seem to mind. Rather, his sneer grew even bigger. « Woke up in a bad mood, Saihara-chan?~ », he laughed, « It just so happens today’s a very special day ».

« ...Huh? », was the only phrase Saihara managed to formulate. That boy came up with an absurd idea after the other, he wasn’t able to follow him at all, especially with so little sleep on him.

« What? », Ouma pouted, « How’s it possible that the Ultimate Detective doesn’t know what I’m talking about? ».

Okay, time to put his dear old brain cells to work. What day could it be? He had no clock in his room, not to mention a calendar. It was starting to be chilly so he could assume it was early winter, but he had no other data. Even his talent couldn’t be of any use with so little information. « Hmm, is it... », he tried to guess, « Your birthday? ».

« _Beeeep!_ », Ouma mimicked the sound of wrong answers in a quiz show, rendering him deaf. « You’ll need to do better than this, Saihara-chan ».

Saihara sighed. Just... what was he trying to achieve? « I have no idea », he surrendered, too tired to think any further. « What’s the occasion? ».

Something soft fell on his head all of a sudden. « It’s Christmas! », Ouma yelled, sounding dangerously similar to a child at the amusement park.

Saihara looked up. Ouma had slammed a Santa Clause hat on the top of his head, complete with lots of reindeer-shaped lights on the white fleece. One couldn’t find things like that even in a primary school, but Ouma _did _seem like the type of person who’d appreciate this cliché stuff. Or, maybe, it was simply a new way to make fun of him.

« We don’t even know the date... », he protested, feeling much like an exasperated mom, « And if I have to be honest, I don’t think it’s even December yet... ».

« It’s Christmas! », Ouma interrupted him with another scream. « I’m telling you it’s Christmas! ».

« Ugh », the detective grumbled. He was yelling too much. Not only his head was pulsing and his eardrums begging for mercy, now Saihara started to fear he could wake up the whole dorm with his loud voice. It was better to give him the free hand and hope he’d leave as soon as possible. « Okay, Merry Christmas. So? ».

Ouma’s pout came back into action. « What do you mean “so”? », he repeated, « So, we have to celebrate, right? ».

Saihara massaged his temples with his fingers. What got into his mind? They were trapped in an unknown place, forced to take part in a brutal killing game, three of their classmates had died only the night before... no sane person on Earth would ever feel like partying in such a situation.

« Sorry », he declined the offer with his usual gentle smile. « I’m exhausted and not exactly in the mood ».

A sentence like this would have destroyed the enthusiasm of pretty much everyone. But not Kokichi Ouma’s, the Ultimate Supreme Leader. He was immune.

« Saihara-chan, you’re killing my Christmas spirit », he complained.

The way he dared to use the term “kill” after what had happened a few hours before got to Saihara’s nerves in the span of one second. « How can you think about Christmas in a moment like this?! », he burst out.

He immediately regretted it. It wasn’t because of his words – those were his real thoughts after all -, rather for the tone he had used. It wasn’t like him to be so impolite, even with people who took it beyond the limit. All the stress was now undermining his usual calm and collected attitude.

And Ouma did, in fact, freeze for a couple seconds. He was a professional liar so Saihara was unable to decipher his expression. Was he hurt? Angry? Or maybe only surprised to see this side of his personality? But right when Saihara was about to apologize to him, his childish good humor came back with a snap.

« But, Saihara-chan », he exclaimed happily, « It’s in moments like this that one must party and get distracted! ». He put a hand on his shoulder, smiling. « You’re too tense, y’know? ».

Saihara’s eyes shut closed as he took a long, deep breath. He wasn’t entirely wrong, he knew that. He couldn’t help but being so nervous, with all that was going on every day. Ouma’s logic was too simplistic and full of holes, but there was no harm in letting go for a little bit. It was just weird, too weird, to be consoled by him. It’s not like they were exactly... friends, yeah.

Saihara moved Ouma’s hands away from his shoulders and lifted a single eyelid to glance at him. « There’s really no one else you can celebrate with? », he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

« Nope », of course, « And I want to spend time with you. Anything against it? ».

That sentence made him blush. Ouma knew how to use words so as to hit the weak points and the sensitive spots of others, and Saihara was always caught off guard when talking to him. It was rare for someone else (except for Kaito) to invite him somewhere, usually it was him who joined his friends in their free time activities. It was almost an honor for him.

The idea of spending time alone with the most dangerous, problematic and – undoubtedly – _hated_ person in the whole group made him feel uneasy. He wanted to know him better, since he didn’t know much about him, but at the same time he wished he could run away and put as much distance between them as possible.

Even so, this didn’t sound like a lie nor like a trap, so maybe he could play along with it for a few minutes. Then, he hoped to have back some of his beloved peace and quiet to rest before the true alarm rang.

« Alright », he agreed. He fully opened the door, allowing him to enter the room. « I’ll get changed, make yourself at home in the meantime ».

« Thanks, Saihara-chan! », Ouma cried out. He skipped to the bed, on which he jumped with no care at all.

Saihara didn’t pay attention to his antics and grabbed his clothes from the chair before disappearing in the toilet. It took him more time than usual to get dressed, his movements slowed down by the fatigue. He almost hoped Ouma would become tired of waiting for him and leave, but obviously that was an impossible dream.

When he came out, he froze on the spot.

The whole room was unrecognizable – everywhere were hanging ornaments, garlands and tiny multicolored stars. A small tree peeped out from a drawer under the bed table. In the span of three minutes, Ouma had turned his perfectly tidied bedroom in a branch office of Santa Claus’s laboratory.

Saihara didn’t know whether to be furious or in awe. He forced himself to fake a smile to hide his desire to rip off every single decoration, one by one, with his own bare hands. The trembling in his lower lip betrayed his true feelings.

Ouma finally noticed him. « D’you like it? », he asked.

Saihara swallowed as he got ready to lie to him. « Y-yeah... », he stuttered, « Let’s say it’s... very typical ». Or to say it better, it looked like the background scenography from a lame Christmas musical. 

His answer, albeit an obvious lie, seemed to please Ouma. Without losing his sly smile, he sat on the bed and tapped with his hands on the mattress, right next to him, silently ordering Saihara to reach him.

A little hesitant, the detective obeyed. Ah, how much he missed sleeping on those same fluffy bedsheets...

« Okay, here we go », Ouma interrupted his fantasies. « There is no such thing as a Christmas without gift trading, sooo... », he put a hand in his pocket and rummaged for a while, before pulling out a small blue packet. « This is yours, Saihara-chan », he offered it to him with both hands, formally.

Saihara accepted it to have a better look. It was small, and definitely packed by a pair of goofy hands, but all in all it seemed like Ouma had put lots of care in that present. The bow he had made with the light-blue ribbon was almost a small masterpiece.

« ...You got this for me? », Saihara asked. No one ever bought him presents. To be honest, he didn’t even remember having many friends at all. In every memory he acquired with a new Flashback Light, he was always alone or feeling uncomfortable around big crowds. My God, maybe he never even celebrated Christmas if not with his family.

The idea that it was Ouma, the boy he kept fighting and arguing with during every investigation and Class Trial – and that he honestly had a hard time tolerating in general – had spent time wondering what to get for him was too touching for his heart.

It wasn’t the first time he could notice he had an interest towards him. The way he talked to him, with that _-chan_ that at first he couldn’t stand, and all the half compliments he paid him were already a big sign of that. But, knowing his habit to lie, he had always considered them as empty words or simply total lies.

Maybe he had been a little too fast to judge him?

He felt tears fogging up his eyes and he forced himself to push them back. It happened quite a few times, but he didn’t enjoy too much crying in front of others. And more importantly, admitting he had been moved by such a simple gesture would have been too embarrassing even for someone like him.

Ouma chuckled under his breath. Knowing him, he was more than satisfied of the reaction he had provoked in him. He had been waiting for that for sure.

« Can I open it? », Saihara asked. Better to do something before he could humiliate himself to a further extent.

Once again, Ouma laughed. It was his usual cunning laugh, the one that always irritated him so much, and that this time almost sounded _cute_. « Of course, or else why would I give it to you now? ».

Saihara nodded with his head. He grasped the corner of the package and ripped apart the paper, revealing the inside. In a small cardboard box was... « A pipe? », he looked at him in confusion.

Ouma placed his arms behind is head. « A pipe! », he repeated, « I thought it would be fitting for the Ultimate Detective. Try to keep it in your mouth during the next Class Trial, it’ll give you more credibility, Sherlock Holmes ».

It was Saihara’s turn to chuckle. He had expected something useless after all – it’s not like he had found any stores inside the school, so even with the best of intentions it was a little hard to get hold of something purposeful – and he wasn’t disappointed. Yet, as dumb as it was, it was a sweet gift.

« I hope there won’t be any next Class Trial », he didn’t miss the chance to remind him, « But you’re right, I should try. Thank you! ».

« No problem, Saihara-chan~ », Ouma replied, extremely satisfied.

Then, he stretched out his hand towards him.

Saihara didn’t budge an inch. What was the meaning of that gesture?

They stayed like that, motionless, for a full minute before Ouma pouted again for the millionth time. « What are you waiting for?! », he blurted out.

His voice was so acute and full of anger that Saihara lifted up his hands in mid air to act as a shield from that invisible danger. « W-What should I do...? ».

Ouma gave him an indignant stare then crossed his arms and looked away, offended. « If you can’t understand it by yourself, I’m not telling you ».

Saihara rolled his eyes. There he was, his usual self. Sometimes he acted worse than a capricious child, and those were the moments he was the cutest and the most annoying at the same time.

Okay, once again it was time for his brain to do its job. He had gifted him a pipe, because on Christmas people trade presents and...

Wait a second. « Oh », he lit up, « You want me to give something to you too...? ».

« Hmpf », from that huffy grunt Saihara understood his intuition was spot on.

« But Ouma-kun... », he said, « How could I have anything in store for you if I didn’t even know today was Christmas? ».

Ouma seemed to be thinking about his words. He then interrupted his act and got back to smiling, his eyes shining with a dangerous light. « You have a point », he agreed, « But you know what? This is boring. Think about a gift for me now! ».

There, he knew he’d find a way to win the debate even if he was one hundred percent wrong. Ouma was always like that, he’d twist every situation around to win the match in almost an admirable way.

« T-There isn’t much in this room... », Saihara tried to justify himself, putting his brain to work so as to make up something smart and get out of trouble.

« I’ll count to three », Ouma decided, « One... ».

Panic. Saihara’s gaze ran in every direction, in the desperate search of an object, _any_ object, that he could pass off as a gift. His hat was out of the question, the Flashback Light had been already used and therefore rendered useless...

« Two... ».

A lamp? No, then he’d end up without a light source to sleep before bedtime. His book? Nah, he didn’t want to remain without a hobby in that crazy place...

« Three! », Ouma yelled out.

Saihara grabbed the first thing his hands could touch. The scale model of a car with Monokuma’s face printed on it. Sometimes he happened to find similar objects while exploring the school, and he collected them to kill time. By now he had quite the collection displayed on his shelves.

« Here, this is for you! », he screamed, finally breathing in again after a long apnea.

Ouma was surprised by that sudden movement, maybe he was already foretasting his victory. He snatched the tiny car from his hands and had a better look at it. « There’s Monokuma’s face on it », he pointed out.

Saihara broke out in a cold sweat. His present had been so cute, he didn’t want to disappoint him completely, come on. « I know... », he said, « But here it’s hard to find something that _doesn’t_ have his face on it ».

Ouma shrugged in agreement. « Monokuma aside », he said, « How did you know I love scale models? ».

Oh. He didn’t have a clue. What an unexpected stroke of luck. Even the Ultimate Detective got kissed by fortune sometimes. « Hehe », he snickered, « I’m a detective, after all, ain’t I? ».

« You’re a terrible liar, Saihara-chan », Ouma promptly answered with a laugh, « You gave me the first thing you could find. But it’s true that I love these things, so thanks! ».

Touche. Well, at least he was happy. That was the most important thing.

« I’m glad », he said, « So, now that we are over with this... ».

« Only one thing’s missing! », Ouma jumped up, tireless. He made the tiny car disappear in his pocket and put a hand in the other one.

Before Saihara could understand what was going on, Ouma placed a finger under his chin and lifted up his face, so that their eyes could meet for a long moment.

« But you have to close your eyes for this », he whispered, in a low voice that made him shiver. « It’s a magic trick ».

« Hmm... alright », Saihara agreed, a little skeptic. He was a detective, if there’s something he didn’t believe in was magic. Usually he understood all the tricks in the span of a second.

« When I say “now”, open your eyes », Ouma instructed.

Saihara nodded and got ready for the worst. He heard rustling of fabric, a swish, and the jingle of a small bell.

« Now », came the signal.

Ouma was in the same exact position as before, only way, way closer. But nothing else had happened at all. He observed him for a while, trying to spot any difference, but... in vain. He was simply smiling and waiting patiently for him to notice something.

But what was it?

He looked up, and finally he understood. Ouma’s arm was high up over their heads, and between his fingers was a sprig of mistletoe, held together by a ribbon and the tiniest bell he had ever seen.

« Where did you find that? », he asked.

« Not telling », Ouma said, and winked at him. « But you know what it means, right, Saihara-chan? ».

That question hit him like a slap. He didn’t even think about it.

He blushed in a second and tried to move away, but Ouma grabbed him by his wrist and, before he could say even one word of protest, their lips were already locked together.

Saihara sure wasn’t an expert in relationships or in kissing, yet he had enough knowledge to tell apart what was “good” from what was “clumsy”. And Ouma was... well, most certainly on the clumsy side. That kiss was goofy, childish, and peeking through his half-closed eyelids Saihara could see just how much he had blushed for such a brave act.

At first, Saihara was tempted to withdraw from the kiss and, who knows, maybe even to slap him. He never once thought about kissing Ouma one day, and usually the idea would have left him with a bad aftertaste in his mouth. Surprisingly though, in that moment he didn’t feel disgusted in the slightest, and he didn’t want to part from his lips. He kissed him back, his heart drumming inside his chest, as he closed his eyes again.

Ouma’s hands pulled at his shirt. Seeing him in this state, blushing to the tip of his ears and pressed tightly against Saihara as if he was his lifeline, one wouldn’t imagine this was the same Kokichi who always had fun driving a wedge between people, talking about cold blooded murders, death, and killers. He looked simply like a young boy who pretends he’s smarter than the others but is actually scared and inexperienced deep down. Or then again, maybe that was just another one of his lies.

When they parted, they were both panting and Ouma couldn’t stop swallowing due to the tension. The mistletoe had fallen on the bed, forgotten, and he didn’t even bother to pick it up.

The atmosphere in the air was tangible. Who knows how long Ouma had been planning to kiss him in that occasion, while he didn’t have any idea of his scheming. To say that, at the beginning, he thought it was Kaito who wanted to wake him up. For sure when he decided to ignore the intercom for the first time, he didn’t expect to finish the morning in that way.

And for some reason, he didn’t dislike that unexpected turn of events. Not at all.

It was him who broke the nervous silence. A pipe for a detective, trading gifts, and now a kiss under the mistletoe... « You really like stereotyped things, don’t you, Ouma-kun? ».

Ouma pouted. « Hey, classics are always good », he said.

Saihara smiled at him, amused. He was really just like a child.

* * *

The door slides closed behind his back with a dull hiss as the whole group leaves. He stays behind, lost in thought. He hates being in this room – it makes his chest ache and burn – yet it’s the only place where he can feel at ease. It’s a paradox, he knows this even too well, but after all what _does_ make sense in his life by now?

Since the latest Class Trial has ended, he can’t manage to think about anything at all without feeling a bottomless abyss he simply can’t seem to fill up. He’s empty, as if he has lost his purpose in this world.

He takes a few steps forward. Something breaks under his weight, and he looks down. A clown mask now lies in a thousand pieces at his feet. The shiny mirror floor reflects his face, with all the exhaustion and the despair he’s been feeling for hours, for days even.

It’s time to leave this place once and for all. It must be locked away, forgotten, left behind. He decides to make the last tour, to mark every single detail with fire in his memories. His gaze falls upon a shelf from where he’s greeted by a tiny car with Monokuma’s face on it.

Fake weapons, masks, helicopters, even a giant throne... there’s not a corner of that lab that doesn’t remind him of the secret lair of some villain in a superhero movie. Or in a kids’ show.

With trembling hands, he rummages through his pocket to find his pipe, and takes it to his lips. It doesn’t work, it’s no more than a mere toy – still he keeps it there, unlit. It helps him cool his head.

A detective with a pipe is a ridiculous stereotype and his friends made fun of him for it a million times, but he can’t help it. As soon as that item touches his mouth, he instantly calms down.

Maybe it’s because it reminds him of the person who gave it to him. Of the way after that first kiss inside his room they grew closer and closer, gradually, until they became a real couple. They shared a turbulent bond, its reins held tightly in Ouma’s hands. He lived up to his title as the Ultimate Supreme Leader and, with his capricious behavior, he liked to act as if he was in charge of their relationship too. They often fought over the silliest things and the most important ones as well, and every time their arguments ended with the same scenario – Saihara saying he was sorry, Ouma pretending not to accept his apology, and then a surprise kiss while the detective was still talking. An easy win, without fail.

And until now, Saihara needed to simply brush his lips with the pipe to feel his cheeks on fire, while his mind remembered one by one all the moments they had shared. His negative thoughts and worries disappeared, swept away by Ouma’s sly grin and the warmth of his mouth.

Yeah, Ouma... truly a cliche lover. That place is so perfect for him, almost tailor made for the childish concept he had of what a “Supreme Leader” is and does. He’d surely like it too much... if only he had been alive to see it.

But now it’s too late.

He walks with an unsteady pace up to the scale model of the car and caresses it with his fingers. He hoped until the very last minute that his intuition was wrong, that it was all a perfectly orchestrated joke, that at the end of the Trial Ouma would pop out from a corner saying “It was just a lie!” as he’d usually do.

But it didn’t happen. Saihara is on his own now, all by himself.

Without anyone who’ll give him chocolate on Saint Valentine’s Day, bring him flowers for his birthday, and kiss him under the mistletoe. Yes, that day... it’s when everything started, and even now it’s still his most precious memory.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been trapped there, nor how much more this torture will go on.

“_I wonder if I’ll be home safe next Christmas_”, he finds himself thinking.

The car falls from the shelf with a loud thud, as if to prove him his thoughts are irrational and totally dumb.

Saihara laughs bitterly. Just how can he think about Christmas in a moment like this?


End file.
